Orange Squad
by OrangeSquad
Summary: A small fleet of UNSC ships and a large fleet of Covenant ships end up in a galaxy faf far away due to a slipspace anomally, both factions form an unlikly alliance after ending up in the middle of the Clone Wars.
1. Chapter 1

Orange Squad

As we jogged quickly down the alley, I couldn't shake the feeling of imminent danger. Course, what do you expect when you're in the middle of a war facing extinction, heading towards a major hot-zone, where you can die in the coming battle. Squads; Yellow, Orange, Blue, Gray and Green from Echo Company were ordered to provide support for the 12th Armor Division at Tuscany Boulevard, five blocks southeast from our EP (Extraction Point).

Less than two blocks from our destination we exited out onto the street taking a group of Grunts and shielded Jackals by surprise. Blue, Green and Gray squads mowed them down with the loss of Yellow squads rookie getting killed by a stray needler round to the throat, we continued down the road to a roughly constructed barricade that was preventing the 12th AD from advancing to their EP.

While Blue squad prepped the barricade for demolition, with Yellow and Gray providing cover in case of enemy contact, lieutenant Jacobs from Gray ordered sergeant DeLanko (Orange) and corporal Kihm (Green) to enter the adjacent buildings to flank the covies, provide suppressing fire, until the barricade is blown and the 12th AD manages to retreat. At which point we bug out the way we came, to help escort 12th AD to the EP for extraction.

Srgnt. DeLanko led us into the left building. After climbing two flights of stairs we came under plasma fire from at least two dozen covie bastard's. Corporal Jimmy and I tossed a couple of frags in their midst hopefully killing a bunch in the process while we made for cover. As I blind fired from behind a collapsed column, private Yung stepped out with his SPNKR and fired a rocket at a cluster of Jackals and two Elites. At which point I switched to my shotgun and ran towards the remaining Elite whose shield was depleted by the rocket blast and was dazed by the explosion, firing one shot point blank at its face killing it instantly. Pumping a new shell into the chamber as I turned around looking for more covies, I glimpsed sarge putting a single round into a Grunts head just as it finished priming a plasma.

The resulting explosion sent me careening through the wall knocking two Jackals to the floor armed with carbines with me sprawled atop them. Luckily my entrance broke the neck of one and dazing the other long enough for the sergeant to give it' its daily dose of lead.

Private's Yung and Keaston hauled me up to my feet, so we could complete the objective. The snipers nest that the Jackals were using was the ideal spot we needed to provide suppressing fire for the 12th AD. We took up positions along the three balconies we had access to and began harassing all of the alien shits. Sergeant DeLanko and Prvt. Keaston began sniping any Elites and Jackals equipped with carbines, who decided to fire on us. Corporal Jimmy and Prvt. Yung took out their rocket launchers and destroyed three of the seven wraiths, Green squad destroyed the other four, out from their position behind a downed phantom. Jimmy and Yung then let loose a couple of rockets onto the largest group of covenant bastard's clustered together. Private Samson and I fired our assault rifles on the aliens closest to our position and opening a path for a nearby hog to get back into position.

Less than two minutes later as we were about to mop up, Lieutenant Jacobs yelled over the tac/com "Stand Clear." The barricade exploded up and out clearing a path for the 12th AD to retreat through. The 12th wasted no time as they regrouped to fall back to the EP, with Green squad covering the rear as they retreated through the hole of the now useless barricade. As this occurred, the sarge ordered us to fall back, we did so with no hesitation.

As we descended to the main floor a Grunt squad directed by an Elite entered the building in the hopes of flanking our allies outside. Unaware of our presence Sarge rolled a grenade at the group which promptly exploded in their midst, at which point we all opened fire on the clustered group, killing them all. After that we hightailed it out of the building before enemy reinforcements could arrive after hearing the small bout of staccato gunfire.

Upon regrouping with the other squads and the 12th AD we began a steady run up a nearby on ramp to the freeway where we continued the journey to the EP. The only threat that impeded our progress were a few small skirmishes with covie cannon fodder that was quickly squelched by the scorpions. We reached the Extraction Point soon thereafter. The scorpions were being attached to the pelicans when we came under fire by two wraiths, half a dozen banshees, a Hunter pair and five full squads of Grunts, Jackals, and Elites.

Thankfully the ground crews set up three chainguns and two missile pods which helped turn the battle in our favor. Unfortunately a plasma mortar hit its target, a scorpion that never had a chance to connect with its pelican was hit where the shells were stored causing it to explode violently. One of the shells discharged and flew directly into its respective pelican disabling it as well. The missile pods had managed to destroy all of the banshees, and the chainguns had dispatched most of the infantry but were disabled by the Hunters. Both of the wraiths were destroyed by Gray squad who had commandeered a gauss hog, while Yellow squad used rockets and grenades on the Hunters, thus killing them. The few remaining Grunts fled when the last Elite was killed.

We quickly loaded our equipment, vehicles and troops onto the remaining pelicans and took off for our respective ships, moments later we came under AAA fire. We lost four of the nine remaining pelicans; one of which had a scorpion, two that had warthogs, and the last had the much needed medical supplies we were sent to procure. Upon reaching orbit we headed back to our respective ships knowing we failed in our mission and readying ourselves to be chewed out for said failure.

As we were docking with our UNSC Destroyer `Up Yours,' Jimmy turned to me and said, "For a CQB specialist Aarkan, that was pretty damn scary at how you ran up to that alien scumbag with only your shotgun, and shooting it just once in the head. But the resulting karma of you being blasted through the wall by the plasma grenade was priceless.

Without looking up from where he was Sergeant DeLanko grumbled, "Jimmy, shut up and leave Corporal Macbeth alone."

I just made an annoyed laugh as I shook my head, then leaned it against the pelicans side and drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

Orange Squad

Chapter 2: ORION

"Sir, all but one bridge has been destroyed!" exclaimed a lieutenant.

"What happened to the demolition team?" demanded the brigadier general.

"Picked off by jackals from the far side," responded the lieutenant.

"Send some squads down there to hold off the advancing force, and get a demolition team down there to blow up that bridge," ordered the brigadier.

"Sir, I'm receiving reports stating that the hostile ground forces are already being held at bay." After a brief pause the lieutenant looks up in bafflement, and says "By only one soldier."

"WHAT?" demanded the brigadier.

The AI chimed in, "Brigadier Vosh, a number of security cameras are currently observing the individual in question, that is holding back the enemy forces."

"Bring it up on the display," ordered Brigadier Vosh.

On the holo-table an image of the bridge was displayed, showing an intense battle between the covenant and a very large suit of power-armor resembling the mjolnir worn by the Spartans. There were grunts, jackals, elites, brutes and hunters desperately trying to make their way across the expanse, but were being held at by one man. This person wearing a curious form of power-armor with no energy shield, seemed to shrug off the vast majority of the strikes from their plasma weapons, as if was a light drizzle. But how he fought back was a startling surprise, on his left arm was a large round shield, and in his right hand was a six foot longsword. The armor, sword and shield were caked in the various blood of the dead covenant. Bodies were strewn about everywhere behind him of the dead and/or dying; all of them slashed, hacked, skewered, cleaved and outright pummeled by a relentless force.

Everyone in the command room just stared at the resulting carnage, until the AI said "Well, I'm at a loss for words. What are your orders sir?"

Momentarily taken aback the brigadier said "Open the comm with that soldier down on the bridge. Double time, people."

"Comm open, Sir," stated a major.

"This is Brigadier General Vosh, commander-and-chief of the planet's ground forces. Identify yourself immediately soldier."

In a clear Scottish accent came the reply. "This be ORION Spartan, Zero-Zero-Zero. Reactivated and reentering active duty as of 09:35 local time. Now, if you don' mind laddie, I'd like to get back to introducing me blade to the bloody' covies." At that moment Triple Zero leapt towards a Brute Chieftain.


	3. Chapter 3

Orange Squad chapter 3

The klaxons were blaring again, signaling us to begin preparations for combat. As I rubbed my weary eyes awake, I glanced at my watch to check the time only to be met with surprise. It was 0400, meaning we managed to sleep for six hours instead of the usual three to four hours. Though still tired, I felt great as I rolled off the supply crates with my fellow squad mates in the hangar. In war, you can sleep anywhere, whenever you have time.

"All personnel, prepare to repel enemy boarders. Points of entry are decks three, four and six."

"You heard it. Check your ammo and prepare to kill these sons of bitches," I yelled. "If they plan on taking the `Up Your's', they'll have to go through us first."

"Hoorah," chorused my squad.

"Macbeth! Take point. Samson! Cover the rear. The nearest entry is hangar two, port side, on deck four. Lets move it people."

We moved down the corridor to the adjacent hangar. If they want the ship so badly, they'll need to pay for it in rivers of their glowing blood. As we reached the door to the hangar, squads Blue and Green were already saying `hello'. "Corporal Kihm, what's it look like in there?"

"Sarge, the forces consist of roughly fifty lil' bastards up front, fourteen shielded and six big ones in back; all of them special forces."

"Shit. Why the hell would they send these guys when an equal number of their regulars would suffice."

"Bad intel?, desperation?; hell they have tech than we do for the most part."

"Sirs," called Samson. "My health pad indicates that most of our forces in the hangar are unconscious and/or injured, the rest are KIA."

"Prisoners, for interrogation," Kihm and I said in unison.

"Alright boys and girls, we need to clear the room hostiles; remove their point of entry to prevent reinforcements; if there's any covies left on the ship we take em' out; check on the wounded and prepare for possibly more combat," I ordered. "Now let's give them hell."

"Sir, Macbeth just charged in there guns blazing, taking out three grunts in the process," declared private Yung.

"Don't worry about him, he's a veteran of close-quarters-battle." Not to mention the fact that he scares the living hell outta me, when he does so. Always with skill, speed, strength and utter brutality.

"Everyone take the SOB's on the left, Macbeth will `deal with' the poor sods on the right," I ordered

"Uh, Sarge?" asked Kihm.

"Just do it!" I bellowed.

The cameras in the hangar managed to catch all the action during the battle. Especially the `actions' Macbeth pulled off, proving why he is a CQB specialist. He's also the only soldier that I know of who carries a few dozen different knives at all times.

After Macbeth charged in mowing down those three grunts, he discarded his assault rifle and brought his shotty to bear. He spun around to the left of the jackal firing his shotgun point blank into its head, while lodging a knife into the crown of a grunt. Moving with his momentum and pumping a new shell into place Aarkan grabbed a jackals shield with his left, pulling the shield to the aliens right, cramming the barrel into its mouth and pulled the trigger. He pushed the dead weight back with his foot while pumping his gun. An elite rushed forward intending to strike him down with its needler, but corporal Macbeth angled his gun upwards into the bastards neck killing it with a single shot.

A second elite came forward with an energy sword slicing his gun in half with a downwards strike, intending to skewer the human the elite reverse his swords path to strike upwards. But Macbeth managed to grab the aliens wrist twisting it to the outside causing it to lose its grip dropping the sword. Before it could fall to the ground Macbeth grasped the hilt with his left swinging it up and burying it deep into the bastards chest. Letting the body fall with the sword in place he turned and punched a lone jackal in the chest stunning it, approaching quickly he dug his fingers into the sockets tearing the eyes out with excessive force, causing the victim to collapse to the floor howling in pain, that abruptly ended with his boot slamming down on its neck.

Aarkan pulled out two combat knives and bodychecked an elite into a wall, he stabbed his right knife through the aliens right palm into the wall, then doing the same with the covies left wrist. He primed a frag and shoved it down the squids throat, then dove for cover behind a pile of crates. The body exploded into blood and gore leaving part of its arms and legs as parting gifts. Quickly scrambling up to his feet corporal Macbeth grabbed a fallen needler and unloaded its clip into two of the remaining elites causing them to explode in a shower of pink mist.

He started pulling out some smaller knives and throwing them with ease killing five grunts and two jackals. Bearing down on him was an elite armed with two plasma rifles. Somehow managing to evade the barrage of plasma fire raining down on him, Aarkan tackled the elite to the deck and with wild abandon began to stab the poor bastard in the head, neck and torso. Until an overcharged plasma shot hit him in his lower back, causing him to slump to the deck writhing in pain, if but briefly. The elite impaled on his sword had taken its plasma pistol and managed to get off one last shot before collapsing dead.

Without warning the aliens left on the ship retreated to their boarding craft and fled. After scouring the ship for any more hostiles or other possible threats like explosives, we began dealing with our wounded and dead. As usual the Fifth Fleet managed to hold its own against the covenant. Suddenly, some ONI spooks came by and carted corporal Macbeth off to a special assignment. AGAIN. One of these days we're going to find out what the assignments are and we're not going to like the answers.

Glyn'mar Domamee watched the tableau of carnage unfold before him after boarding the human vessel with his camoflauge active. His orders were to observe and study their tactics used in battle for the purpose to undermine them in ground campaigns. Through the many battles that have been waged upon the ground, the humans tend to prevail. Their technology may be primitive by our standards but inflict as much death as our own weapons when employed by their seasoned soldiers.

Our forces are sent forth with our noble weapons, holy flares and greater numbers; and yet they manage to kill us. Their unholy flares cause even the feared ultra's to leap to safety. Their favored rapid-fire weapons deplete our shields slowly but inflict horrendous wounds as they shred our flesh. The precise weapons are able to breach our shields and pierce our sacred armor. The mighty mglegkolo seek safety when they fire those infernal explosives.

But even more deadly are the specialists they use sparingly, such as the one encountered during the mission to observe their tactics. At first glance Glyn'mar thought it was one of the Demons he heard mention of, but this being fought with an aggression that surpassed even the disgraceful jiralhanae. Upon seeing the human climb to its feet ready for battle after being shot by an overcharge blast, the sangheili champion assassin called for the retreat.

Acting on orders secreted to him from the Minor Prophet of Doubt that stated,

The farce of the Covenant must end, as must the genocide of humanity as well. But until our forces and allies can gather, follow your orders to the letter, unless they conflict with our secret.

Your friend and ally Doubt.

It is quite difficult to act against those I seek to help, but I must obey my orders. I only hope that the jiralhane can be trusted with their missions or else all this planning will be for naught.

Though these humans appear to be whelps up close, their tenacity to survive proves that they should have been our allies. And yet the Hierarch's chose to eradicate them instead. All others in the Covenant were assimilated into the fold regardless of what they have, such was the case in regards to the packs of the jiralhanae. We had only just begun to travel to the stars once more after our nuclear fallout. It was sixty ages ago when we joined the Covenant; I was but a runt back then, I was cunning, strong, tenacious and vengeful; and like many others in my pack I was a warrior. But these humans are to be eradicated because they're an affront to the beliefs of our gods "The Forerunners?" Lies of the san'shyum no doubt.

Never have I believed in the Forerunners and the Great Journey, how the humans are a blight that must be extinguished, nor have I listened to the lies of the hierarchs. I only followed the covenant so I could watch over and protect my packs. As War-Chieftain my duty is to uphold the pride of the jiralhanae; ensure our continued survival; bring victory upon victory; and to prove we are the better of the packs.

Doubt, a lesser prophet and an ally against the views of the covenant, had managed to procure two destroyers and one battlecruiser that were placed under my command. But having such a post caused the sangheili to start by sending my ships on an errand to gather "supplies" from a distant colony. Little did we know that they had sent us on a suicide mission, to "dishonor" us due to our inexperience in ship to ship battles. We arrived to a heavy battle between a very large fleet of human vessels against three battlecruisers. One had been destroyed spreading debris across the battle scape, another was disabled and listing towards the right flank of a human carrier, and the third was just holding its shields up in a desperate attempt to survive.

We received an urgent hail from the surviving battlecruiser, stating that their shields were about to fail and that they were transporting five councilors to High Charity; two sangheili and three san'shyum. Knowing the next few moments would determine success or failure I sent my ships into the thick of it.

I ordered on destroyer to circle all the way around the human fleet, firing all of their weapons hoping to distract some of the human vessels from bombarding the councilors ship. The second destroyer went straight into the enemy fleet firing at point blank range, devastating many of the smaller vessels. I had my battlecruiser place itself directly into the line of fire aimed at the councilors, then I ordered the seraphs to deploy and neutralize any of the attacking human fighters. Following this I sent the available spirit dropships over to collect the councilors, shipmaster, honor guard, huragok and any other crew that could be saved.

After a few tense minutes the spirits with the councilors and most of the ships remaining crew, I then ordered the seraphs to return to dock and called the destroyers back to form up for a jump to slipspace. Before making the jump I made a cursory review of loss and damages. All three of my ships had suffered minimal damages and lost negligible seraphs and none of the spirits, while the humans on the other hand lost a carrier, two cruisers and numerous smaller vessels since our arrival to the battle.

We entered slipspace and headed straight for High Charity without delay. During the transit I made my way down to the quarters given to the councilors, to see how they fared and to help provide them with any available necessities. On the way to my honored guests I reflected on how a simple errand, which was actually a suicide mission had brought great honor to my skills as a newly appointed shipmaster.

I arrived at the chambers given to the councilors only to be barred from entry by the honor guard present. One of which greeted me with a growl of challenge. Instead of rising to the bait I casually said, "I have come to check on the councilors to see if I can accommodate them in any way."

"The councilors need not your services vermin. If they should speak to anyone it would be the shipmaster of this vessel, not a beast such as yourself," stated the other.

"I AM, the shipmaster of this vessel," I responded with pride. The look of utter horror on the faces of the honorguard, filled me with a bit of delight. "Now, address me with the respect of my position and I will not tell the councilors of your disrespect to a shipmaster."

With forced dignity they responded. "Yes shipmaster. We'll notify them of your arrival immediately," said the first. The second responded with true humility and contacted my guests, "Councilors! The shipmaster has arrived to see to your needs."

"Let him pass," ordered a voice clearly a san'shyum.

As I entered the quarters occupied by the councilors, I noted that they appeared to be both haggard and relieved from their ordeal. Although the look on their faces at the sight of a jiralhanae entering their room, alone no less, came in the form of curiosity from the san'shyum and shock from the sangheili.

"I am both shipmaster and war-chieftain of the packs called Blood Claws. I am proud to have vacated yourselves from that battle, it would have been costly had you perished in that losing battle."

One of the sangheili councilors sneered at me, "You should have used your ships to shield ours so that we could make our escape, while you perished in our stead."

In reply I said, "It would have been unwise to have perform an action such as that. Only recently I was given command of these vessels, but to die suddenly after receiving such a post would have dishonored myself, my pack and the already tarnished jiralhanae. To reclaim the honor of the jiralhanae requires more than dying in battle; it requires us to use wisdom over strength. Had I used my fleet to shield your escape would prove that we are unfit to command a ship, it would show a coplete lack of tactical ingenuity and we would appear to be incapable of protecting our councilors."

"You dare lecture me on how to lead! I will remove your hearts for overstepping your post."

"Enough!" exclaimed the other sangheili. "Noble councilors of the san'shyum, I apologize for the brash arrogance of my fellow councilor. He is still young and naive in politics."

"Don't apologize. We all learn the difficulties of politics through our mistakes. Young councilor, hold your thoughts and display your deeds through your eventual wisdom."

"I heed your advice councilor." Inclining his head towards me he said simply "War-Chieftain."

In response I grunted in approval to his apology. Directing my attention towards the san'shyum I asked, "Do you require anything as we make our way back to High Charity."

"No, we shall retiring soon. Until we arrive home all we need is rest. Be well Shipmaster and may the Forerunners bless your actions this day."

Soon after returning to High Charity, our ships received a welcome addition to our vessels. The san'shyum we rescued deemed us worthy to lead the unggoy and place a few hundred within my fleet. A few weeks later we had prevented a group of unsocial yanme'e from killing a hive queen. Which resulted in the queen presenting my fleet with four siege drones (males), each commanding a full swarm, until either my line dies or they believe me to be an incompetent.

Two age growths later my fleet had prevented a serious coup upon kig-yar matriarch and protecting her personal clutch of eggs from being decimated. As appreciation my fleet known as the fleet of Survival and Determination received a contingent of both kig-yar marksman and infantry to be used as I saw fit.

Several days later my fleet came across one of the covenants frigates drifting through space. Having suffered damage from a meteor colliding with their engines just two days prior, the kig-yar shipmistress was unsure if they would be aided regardless of what they were transporting. The shipmsitress was given the task of transporting several dozen mgalekgolo pairs to the fleet of Aspiration, but the fleet was annihilated before they could arrive, so she made to return them to High Charity, that is until the incident with the meteor.

As a sign of goodwill for rescuing them the shipmistress gave my fleet all of the mgalekgolo pairs, plus her entire crew which consisted of several unggoy, a dozen kig-yar infantry, an entire contingent of kig-yar skirmishers and six (bless their talents) huragok. Having these new additions to bolster my fleet brought great pride to my packs, plus great respect amongst the jiralhanae.

I ordered that the disabled frigate be gutted and disassembled and every piece including the hull and framework be used to fully repair and add additional support to the battlecrusier and both destroyers. After hearing the stories of the Covenant vessels being defeated by a single slug from a human vessel after their shields were lost. This gave me the idea that the hull and all blocks, mostly those closest to the exterior of the should be reinforced. It nearly one sixth of an age growth to both dismantle the frigate and incorporate all repairs and additions to my fleet.

Before continuing on with our patrols, I placed the former shipmistress in the position of flightmaster, whose guidance oversees the maintenance and coordination of my fleets spirits, seraphs, banshees and vampires. Through my communications with the Lesser Prophet of Doubt that Xinyaga was a well respected and quite successful flightmaster, before she was forced to command that frigate by the sangheili. Their reason of which was jealosy of her status and success, because she was both kig-yar and female. Why the sangheili fear females such as this I will never understand. A female that garners respect and fear; and is strong in many forms, is the kind of female a jiralhanae would want to mate with.

On the day of my fifty-fourth age graowth, I received an order from the High Council that would show the true might of the humans.

"What is it you command, noble councilor?" I asked.

The sangheili councilman frowned in disdain during our communique, "You're to go to a world controlled by the heretic filth, a world they call Vanguard. The world contains relics of the Forerunners and may yet show the way for us to begin the Great Journey. Once you reach the world you are to deploy your ground forces and aid in the extermination of the humans. You will use your banshees and vampires to dominate the air, while ... ugh, your fleet and seraphs destroy any human vessels in orbit. If you fail in any way I will personally see you and your pack wiped clean." With that said the councilor severed the connection.

"War-Chieftain? If we continue along with the orders given to us by the council, we will fail in our plans to aid them," stated Chieftain Koulus. One of many strong-willed and dangerous females, within my packs.

"Her concern is valid War-Cieftain," agreed Bologshus an old and wise chieftain.

"Once our forces have been deployed upon the surface, have the spirits collect teams of stalkers and skirmishers to begin a special operation," I declared.

"Why? What is it this plan of yours entail," asked Logoshus, another chieftain, as well as my only son. And is my fleets Fieldmaster.

"The majority of the skirmishers shall raid the facilities where the humans store their food and medical stuffs, then bring the supplies back to the spirits to be transported back to our fleet. The stalkers and remaining skirmishers shall begin their task of rounding up their survivors; male, female and runts, these too will be brought back to our fleet. Should any of the sangheili of their forces ask you are collecting the humans and their supplies, tell them that we like our meat fresh and healthy. They will respond with disgust or horror and leave you to continue your mission. After we have collected as many as possible and the assault is over, our fleet shall proceed to one of their previously defeated worlds to drop them off. The world upon which we will leave them is known as Aesir." Once I had finished, my fellow chieftains barked their approval of the plan I laid before them.

"We proceed to their world, until then tell the plan to the rest of our fleet. And may our plans never be discovered," I stated with clear finality.

As we descended towards the planet my fellow jiralhanae began their preparations for the coming deception we were going to perform on the world of Vanguard. I am their Chieftain and Fieldmaster, to check my weapons and equipment like they' would be a sign of nervousness for the coming battle. Such actions are unbefitting of one of my stature, so I just stood there exuding an aura of confidence knowing that my hammer and spike rifle will serve me well.

Looking amongst my honored guardsmen for our part in the assault. Four of my most respected captains were present; scrutinizing and lecturing those who are their most reliable as well. One had five stalkers, another led four with jump-packs, while the other two commanded a group of six minors each. One of these minors is of my own blood, my only surviving son Varinius. Though brash, he shows great promise of becoming a warrior of great strength and skill, provided that he learns to be more cunning in combat and wise in his decisions. Unlike many other pack members who choose to carry one weapon and the others that carry two like myself, he is the only one within all four of my fathers packs, that carries three weapons into battle. A bruteshot that fires explosive electric shots, employed primarily by those wearing jump-packs; a spike rifle, the favored weapon of all jiralhanae; and a mauler, useless at a distance and a gem of a weapon up close.

I grinned in pride at the sight of my pack members preparing for our battle and the blow to the idiocy of the high council and the blind followers of the Covenant.

The spirit dropped us off in a small park near a long and expansive bridge many of the Covenant forces were beginning to cross. I disembarked my spirit and began taking in the surroundings of the battlefield and the spirits that survived the descent. Of the five spirit dropships that accompanied my spirit only three survived, an unacceptable loss. Two of the surviving spirits carried a few dozen unggoy and four mgalekgolo pairs, while the last brought several teams of skirmishers for the assault. Unfortunately a sangheili fieldmajor strode forward, intent on giving orders to my forces without checking the rank of the others present; namely myself.

"By order of my Fieldmaster, You're to accompany the forces crossing the bridge to renew the assault on the enemy stronghold," ordered the Fieldmajor. When my forces didn't move he spoke once more in annoyance, "Did you not hear the order? You are to march by the Fieldmaster's command."

"They heard the order," I put in. "But they take orders from only their Fieldmaster, not yours."

"And who is their fieldmaster?" demanded the fieldmajor.

My only reply was a simple, threatening chuckle.

The sangheili looked at me in wonder, then his mandibles sagged in horror. Recovering quickly he continued apologetically, "I am sorry Fieldmaster, please forgive my impertinence."

"I cannot forgive, nor will I forget. Now lead me to your Fieldmaster, so we may coordinate our efforts in this battle," I ordered in a none too friendly voice.

"At once Fieldmaster, he is just around the corner, down near the bridge," the sangheili returned with respect as he led the way.

We came to a scene of a sangheili fieldmaster issuing commands to all the nearby infantry and surviving armor. "Get the unggoy to the front of the column with a sangheili in command, guarded by three kig-yar. Send the mgalekgolo forward as well with support from the unggoy. Have the wraiths array themselves on either side of the bridge to provide suppression on the blasphemers during the assault. Have the ghosts ... Fieldmajor why have you brought these vermin before me?" demanded the sangheili fieldmaster with clear annoyance in his voice.

"Sir!" stammered the fieldmajor. "This is the Fieldmaster of the jiralhanae forces," he indicated towards me. The sangheili frowned, obviously displeased but held his thoughts. Excellent, a sangheili who knows not to complain when a command structure endures a sudden change.

"Do not worry, I am here to coordinate the assault and lend my forces where they are most useful. If need be I will join the fray and bring Swift Death to bear," I proclaimed calmly.

The sangheili leveled his gaze with mine knowing that I spoke of the hammer strapped to my back, and didn't pursue the topic further. "Do as you say, and have your forces distributed evenly with MY forces. But don't think you will gain credit for this battle, the honor of that rite lies solely with me," the Fieldmaster threatened, then continued on with directing his forces.

I grunted with contempt knowing that he was finished with our converse. Turning to my forces I began directing them into special assault squads, of my own design. Each assault squad would consist of three teams of unggoy, led by a spec-ops unggoy that will act as a defense for one of the mgalekgolo pairs assigned to them. The mgalekgolo aid by focusing on fortified positions, large clusters of enemy soldiers or any hostile vehicle. Two teams of skirmishers act as the primary offense in the assault squad, running from cover-to-cover firing their weapons rapidly but accurately at the defenders. They would even run away from cover to get a better shot if need be; provided that there is no heavy cross fire.

Once my assault squads had formed and had joined the sangheili forces, I myself with my personal guard joined the march. The sangheili fieldmaster saw what I was doing quickly finished dictating his orders and had his personal guard follow him out onto the bridge as well. Soon he and his guards caught up with me but stayed on the other side of the bridge, he did this to prove that he had no cowardice in the face of battle and to prevent me from gaining to much honor in the assault.

Strange. Thousands of our numbers had already begun crossing the expanse before my forces arrived. And yet the flow of our steps began to slow. Curiosity and annoyance mounting both I and the sangheili were calling for an explanation as to why the advance had nearly stopped. Our answer came in the form of our forces screaming for battle, while they screamed in fear or death. Our forces were being slaughtered.

Peering towards the crest of the bridge I just managed to make out what appeared to be glinting metal swinging in a massive arc, followed by cries of pain. Soon our forces were pushed back far enough that we could see what was slowing our progress. To my shock it appeared to be some form of archaic armor, wielding a sword almost as long as it stood tall and carried a large round shield on its opposing arm. Not only that but it appeared to ignore the shots coming from the plasma weapons as if it were a light rain.

If it wasn't for the sangheili minors leading the unggoy and kig-yar, they surely would have broken rank and fled. Little good that did at the moment. Whatever that thing was it was here to kill them. It severed heads; cleaved limbs; hacked mgalekgolo to pieces; pummeled those too close to its shield and crushed any unfortunate to fall under its feet. Rarely did I feel uncertainty and even more rare did I look forward to an impossible battle.

"Hold your ground!" ordered the sangheili. "Do not let that thing halt our advance. We must press forward." Even at those words the normally stalwart mgalekgolo appeared apprehensive, after seeing many of their bretheren cut to ribbons by a single adversary.

Making a solemn prayer to the dead spirits of the jiralhanae, I hoped for the survival of the packs, our plans to succeed and that my life is spared in the coming of the armored reaper. "Prepare yourselves, for we fight to survive now. Take flight to attack from a distance should it get to near,"

"Open fire!" bellowed the sangheili and I as if we were one. And then all our forces began to fire their weapons as if death itself came to take them away. Although that is quite accurate.

After much tense and fearful combat this reaper ... yes, that's what it is, a reaper. A reaper of death. It was at least a couple dozen strides away, and had massacred those of my forces who never retreated in time. As my personal guard checked the ammo of their weapons just in case, so too did the sangheili's guards. Of which two were champion assassins, three were royal zealots and five were the ever respected gladiators.

Suddenly, the reaper leapt right for me. Barely able to draw breath, I leapt to the side to avoid the intended fatal blow. Rolling to my feet I steeled myself for the next swing. But to my horror, he had decapitated on of my captains and dispatched two of his minors. One died clutching his entrails, while the other was briefly impaled on the sword of the reaper.

Taking a chance I lunged forward and swung my hammer down on it, only to be blocked by the shield. It pushed me back with the shield followed by a rising swipe with its sword, though I made the attempt to evade the strike it still connected. A vertical scar would remain on the left side of my face and be permanently blind in my left eye. As I staggered back it moved on to kill more of my pack. One captain fell after the edge of the shield was used to break his neck, one minor managed to crawl away after both his legs were severed, while another had his head chopped in two, and one captain managed to flee when his arm was cleaved off.

"Aid the wounded and fall back," I barked to my kin. As they did as I told them, the reaper had turned to the sangheili.

One of the gladiators had jumped forwards with his sword drawn only to be batted to the side by the shield with such force that you could tell that he did not survive the blow. He followed this up by piercing the chest of one assassin delivering it to death as well. Seeking to avenge his brother the other assassin sought to strike him from behind. But the reaper spun backwards to the right and using the swords momentum to cut the sangheili in two. Using the momentum to its advantage it swung the shield up in an uppercut into the throats of two of the zealots. One was killed instantly, while the other died gasping for air.

Bracing itself behind the shield, the reaper charged forward into a gladiator and smashed the sangheili into side of the bridge with such force that luminescent blood sprayed forth on the wall. The remaining zealot and the last of the gladiators rushed forward. Using the shield like a shovel one sangheili was scooped up and thrown of the bridge, the zealot was decapitated quickly, while the two remaining gladiators were methodically dismembered.

Apparently waiting for the right moment, the sangheili fieldmaster stepped forward and swiped his energy sword across the neck of the reaper. Horrifyingly, the attack seemed to just annoy it. In response it simply head-butted the sangheili, knocking it face down on the bridge and casually brought its foot down on the fieldmasters head, causing an obscene mess.

Knowing defeat was now inevitable, I did the one thing that has never been said for generations in the Covenant. "RETREAT!" I bellowed.

Upon hearing those words all the forces including the battle hardened sangheili spec-ops, fled in terror. Some yelling "Reaper" in the process of escape. Reaper struck down the stragglers while our forces fled. Piling as many as possible into the spirits and phantoms we took to the air. Looking back to the bridge I saw the Reaper casually walking the last few strides across the bridge as the charges that the humans placed on its primary supports during the battle began to detonate. I hope we never have to face the Reaper in battle ever again.

In high orbit of the planet Vanguard, and ONI Stealth Cruiser watches the battle unfold on the planet, specifically a certain battle on a certain now defunct bridge.

"At least now we know how the adamantium armor holds up against the Covenant forces," clarified one.

"Are you sure it was wise having that ORION Spartan test its capabilities in combat? Regardless of his skills and combat experience," commented two. "Plus, he belongs in either a retirement home given his age, or a psychiatric ward due to his mental issues."

"Stripes was the only one that experienced that side effect. Now he's burdened with a much longer life-span. And until he dies, he works for us," said three.

"We're off topic here. Have someone radio the Up Yours to come collect him once he's back aboard. We can't have Orange Squad running around without their CQB expert," stated one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Orange Squad chapter 4**

It has been too long. So many years have passed since the war with the humans began. All because of the hierarchs pride and vanity to cling to their power. I remember all those years ago how I listened in on the actions taken by the High Prophets Truth, Mercy and Regret with the great Oracle, of how the humans are the Reclaimers and inheritors to the technology of the Forerunners. After witnessing their rise to High Prophets, I knew what must be done. I began to form an alliance of like-minded individuals within our Covenant, after many long years I was able to bring forth supporters from all our species.

My greatest success was forming the Third Fleet of Homogenous Clarity. It consisted of five Assault Carriers, three Supercarriers, thirty-five Battlecruisers, seventeen Carriers, thirty-one Destroyers, thirty-three Cruisers, forty-two Frigates, twenty-nine Corvettes, three Stealth Corvettes, seventy-eight Light Cruisers and sixty-two Battleships. This fleet was charged with guarding a newly constructed super-station; a sister ship of High Charity known as Sublime Humiliation. Unlike High Charity which is empowered solely by the forerunner dreadnought, Sublime Humiliation is powered by several dozen forerunner generators that have been collected over the Ages. Many artifacts of the forerunners have been used in the construction of this holy city but not as much as that of High Charity.

While such a feat would be considered notable to all within the Covenant, I chose for it to be kept secret from certain parties that would hinder my plans to aid the humans. The majority of those within the Third Fleet of Homogenous Clarity and those who inhabit Sublime Humiliation know of my intent and support my actions to bring about success.

After much complication my fellow councilors and I have determined that now that we have the numbers and extensive resources at our disposal, we should contact the humans and make them aware of our intent. As a sign of peace we will send them the coordinates of the worlds we have secreted nearly 7.5 billion human refugees in an attempt to preserve their race. We know full well the humans won't trust the information given to them, so we will wait for them to investigate each world to determine if we are telling the truth. As they investigate these five worlds they will discover a single member from the Covenant upon each world that will be our ambassadors in this endeavour to make peace.

So now I send our message to the humans and hope for an outcomethat our two factions sorely need.

It's been more than a month since we received the message for a truce between the UNSC and a splinter faction of the Covenant. After much debate and a lot of trepidation in regards to the legitamacy of this claim for a cease fire. ONI brass has chosen to send special recon teams to investigate each world that was listed in the missive. One such world, ONI has designated as Truce World Bravo, is the location that my team of Orions and Spartan III's from Alpha Company were sent to investigate and possibly bring back the `Ambassador'.

A mission such as this would be an easy task, but with human/covie tensions as they are, I wouldn't be surprised if someone _accidently_ shot the representative from the supposed separatists. So as a result my team has been sent in to investigate this world and if it turns out to be what it has been described as and consists of only ONE covie, we are to report in and wait for further instructions; and we are under no circumstances allowed to engage the primary target or alert the local populace of our arrival in case they turn out to be hostile and/or bait.

The first few days we landed dirt-side we checked several outlying settlements which to our surprise consisted of several thousand to tens of thousands of refugees from numerous worlds that have been purged or glassed. Upon our inspection of the largest city upon the planet which was also the capital of the planet used by the local denizens. The local com chatter indicated that recently a spirit had dropped off a lone alien. The ambassador stayed within the park where it was dropped off and has made no hostile actions towards the public. Regardless, everyone gave the alien a wide berth just in case.

With our recon complete we sent in our findings and began the tedious process of waiting. "Listen up people we may have some time to ourselves now but don't get too complacent, we need to hold our position until the brass call. So rest up and prep your gear for either an aggressive encounter or pacifistic negotiations," I said.

Excuse me Omega One, I thought we were here to determine whether their intentions are as true as the claim and if so, help bring about a swift end to this conflict. I'm not saying I'm against a good fight, I'm just wondering why you seem so inclined to killing them," asked Omega Three.

"I'm from Harvest," I deadpanned.

"Never meant to disrespect you sir," she apologized.

"Omega Five, what's our chances of surviving the encounter with the covie if we go in shooting?" I queried.

"Optimal if it's a standard infantry unit, but if it turns out to be a high ranking elite or a brute chieftain, we could be royally screwed," he responded. "Also what weapons they're carrying will affect which way the wind blows the outcome of an engagement. Our chances of chances of success by casually entering are about the same because we don't know whether or not this is a trap."

"Omega Six, contact Omega Two for a sitrep on our pelican," I ordered.

Affirmative Sir!" exclaimed Omega six. "Sir, she reports that our evac is prepped for a quick exfil if we need to bug out soon. And apparently she's run out of coffee, so be nice when you see her next. Wait a moment sir, sir we've received confirmation from ONI to bring back the ambassador; `Alive`."

"Alright people, let's go say hi," I dictated.

Three hours later we arrived at the location of the alien, and much to the displeasure of Omega One the covie was an Elite. What made it worse was that said elite was a Royal Zealot armed with a T1 EW/S and T50 DER/H. We came upon the zealot as it seemed to be patrolling the area in no particular fashion. It knew we were coming given that its hand was ready to draw its sword if we attacked. Regardless our orders are to take the alien back with us without disarming it; that has to be one of ONI's more insane orders.

"We're not here to fight you," called out Omega One. "Our orders are to escort you back to our superiors to discuss the terms of the proposed treaty. You will be allowed to carry your weapons on your personage until we reach our intended destination at which point you will be asked to relieve yourself of said weapons before the meeting commences. Do you understand and accept the rules that are applied."

"I understand and will comply, for it is necessary," replied the elite in a deep voice that demanded respect or death would follow.

"Understood," acknowledged Omega One. "Omega Six, contact Omega Two to prep the pelican for launch."

"Affirmative sir!" replied Six.

"Omega Five, guard the ambassador," ordered the captain.

"Right!" I called out.

"Omegas Three and Four watch our flanks," commanded Omega One.

"Sir!" responded Three and Four.

"Two's ETA is twelve minutes sir," stated Six.

"You humans are always wary even when only foe is present," observed the Royal Zealot.

"Considering we've suffered severe losses to your faction, you shouldn't be too concerned about our caution," I replied. To which the covie responded by frowning in silence. "Don't mind my asking, but for future reference what is your name?"

Taking its time to respond so as to determine if my question was a threat, the zealot seemed to ignore an impulse to gut me on the spot, as if such a question was a death sentence. "You may know me as Sabu'Rekee. Now, what is your name? queried the elite.

I responded quickly by saying, "Rebecca."

Strange; this demon responded readily to my question, leading me to believe that either it knew this conversation was to play out as such or lacked the fear that is common amongst their species. Such thoughts are unimportant at this time. I must focus on bringing about a peaceful resolution to this idiotic war with the other ambassadors, regardless that one is a jiralhanae. Hopefully he does not kill whomever was sent to collect him from the world he was placed.

The ship soon arrives, now my deeds may occur more swiftly to end this war.

On another world with intentions of equal measure, a jiralhanae boards a UNSC pelican.

As I enter this alien vessel with six humans that call themselves Orange Squad from the pack of Colours Company, I noticed that this ship appeals to the taste of jiralhanae ideology. It's quick and agile, armed to the teeth and made of strong materials; unlike the spirits or phantoms though quick and agile lack the armor and weaponry to survive an assault from the humans heavy armor.

Looking upon the faces of these humans I see they're all well seasoned warriors and survivors of many hard fought battles. Three of humans appear to be several seasons out from their time as pups. One of this group undoubtedly the captain leads them with a status of greater cunning amongst most while receiving respect without question. Of the two remaining they appear to be majors like myself. But of the two majors and by far the largest human present, this one has a large physique; with a broad chest, thickly toned legs and arms; a thick mane of hair upon his head, dark like dirt and a beard of orange hair kept out of place by beads made out of what seems to be bullet casings.

Curious, of all the humans I've come across this one gives me as much distress as the Reaper did nearly an age-span ago. I must remain vigilant, for my father Logoshus never trained a coward.

What? Why is the human barbarian coming towards me?

"Uh, Sarge? What's corporal Macbeth doing?" asked private Yung.

As I looked over to see what he was doing, I couldn't help but utter my concern. "Oh crap. Macbeth! Don't do anything drastic, that's an order!" I called after him.

"Dinna worry, S'rge. I jus' wanna talk tae the lil' beastie," replied Aarkan. "Ahm corporal Macbeth, from orange squad. Wha's ya name laddie? Oi, speak up ye wee lil' brute. Cause if ye dinna answer, I be callin ye heap o' dung."

The brute sprang up and exclaimed, "I am major Varinius of the Long Coat Pack. Proud offspring of Logoshus; fieldmarshall to Larinius; warchieftain of the Blood Claws and fleetmaster to the fleet of Survival and Determination."

"Good tae see ya back is nice n' stout. Kinda worried ye may 'ave been a dandy. Sorry tae 'ave provoked ye."

The brutes response was narrowing its eyes in confusion, then relaxed his posture while making a slight grunt.

"Now if ye dinna mind, I be curious tae look at tha mauler n' spike rifle while we transit back."

"I'll let you look at them if you hand over your shotgun and assault rifle for the same purpose."

"If tha's wha' ye want, sure."

Unfrigginbelieveable. We're five minutes into making a ceasefire with a group of rogue covies and corporal Macbeth has gone and made himself a new friend. At least this means that their meaningful, provided we don't die suddenly. Or the war suddenly changes and we're stuck fighting both humans and aliens. Now that would be worse.


	5. Chapter 5

Not chapter five – But chapter five anyways

Seeing as how I haven't updated in awhile due to personal issues (depression mostly, and no internet at my apartment until recently), I figured the readers would like some form of an update. Currently I'm rewriting the next chapter because of my transition from my old computer to a newer model due to operational issues (viral, spyware, malware and maybe some explicit material) that caused my old friend to fail. I was successful in salvaging the four previous chapters but the fifth was lost to the corruption. So I've chosen this update to provide you with how I plan to set up the military aspect of the covenant and two special groups living in the unknown regions of the star wars galaxy, away from the prying eyes of the Republic and the speciesist and religious fears of the Jedi order.

Covenant

San'Shyuum / Prophets are the leaders of both military groups within the covenant namely Elite or Brute forces. And the Huragok / Engineers are deployed primarily with the Elites due to tensions with the Brutes, but some brute forces will have access to these units but only rarely.

Elites

At the top of this force are the sangheili / elites seven to eight foot tall lizard aliens bound by honor, duty and bloodlines with a mastery of combat rivaled only by the brutes and the cloned spartan forces. Followed by the bio-computer engineers and hunters worm-like eels forming small colonies housed within enormous suits of thick almost nigh-impenetrable armor, nearing twelve to fifteen feet tall, acting as walking tanks, or massive assault platforms in specific battles. The kig-yar / jackals act as the rangers, snipers and infantry guard of this force, while the unggoy / grunts represent the bulk of their ground forces due to their rapid reproduction rate of three to five clutches per year, which makes them perfect for their cannon-fodder qualities.

Brutes

The jiralhanae / brutes are this groups leading force an eight to nine foot tall ursine (bear) like alien driven by pack status including position as an alpha, beta, or omega; mating rites and producing prime offspring. With a reputation for unnecessary acts of violence and a berserking rage known to cause even a hunter serious harm. The yanme'e / drones represent their engineering force, and are used as a capable flying-shock trooper. A cousin of the elites, jackal forces; the kig-yar / skirmisher is a larger, more heavily muscled version of their relatives known for their speed, agility and their limited chicken-flight ability, deployed as a tactical shock trooper, agile recon units or anti-infantry roles. And the lowly grunts are used as cannon-fodder but with a higher mortality rate due to brute behavior.

Sith Sovereignty

Remnants of the the sith that survived the failed assault on republic space soon after the Hundred-Year Darkness, form a flotilla of nearly a hundred freighters, carriers and destroyers flee deep into the unknown regions. Species consist of sith, human, twi'lek, zabrak and kaleesh, with the intent to form a formidable armada more powerful than the galaxy has ever experienced and will wait as lon as possible to form this force. Two hundred years after their departure a powerful sith scientist collectes genetic samples of numerous sith masters and dark lords and creates a supreme sith lord with unrivaled abilities and undeniable control over all the collective sith races, and begins the formation of the sith sovereignty. Over the centuries many worlds are brought under sith, each world ruled by a sith lord and each lod must kneel to the sovereign or be slaughtered mercilessly. Lifeless worlds are terraformed using both technology an sith magic making it both habitable and useful to the colonists.

Mandalorian Crusaders

The surviving taung species from before and after the Madalorian Wars retreat deep into the unknown regions to survive and rebuild their species until they are once again formidable in numbers and continue honing their skills in combat. Many worlds are colonized and they begin anew with the formation of their individual clans, the process of farming, mining and smithing items from their legendary beskar (mandalorian iron). Combat takes place on their steads for practice and between clans to determine their strengths and hone their skills. When a world is found that is colonized by a space faring culture or a culture that isn't capable yet the clans rally behind Mand'alor set forth upon their foe like locusts on a field of grain. Riding their iconic basilisk war droid into battle in both space and atmospheric combat, while on the field they set upon their foes with repeating blasters and cannons, disruptors and thermal detonators, missiles and bombs both chemical and radiological, and their favored beskads (heavy and lethal broadswords). Even trading blows with the sith sovereignty for the last couple of decades over a meager trade dispute and claim of territory.

UNSC

As far as these individuals are concerned they are the last of humanity while the rest of their race has quite possibly been annihilated to extinction in their home galaxy. Brought here by a whimsical monitor with a horribly erratic behavior that transported a massive fleet of ships both human and covenant with a group of fully populated worlds ranging in the tens of billions of all the collected races from one side of the universe to the other because it needs help with containment procedures. The teleportation was a one way trip, leaving all passengers more than unhappy about their allotment in this ordeal. The monitor left after regaling the full purpose of the containment and said it would return in thirty-two years when their service would be most required in activation of containment procedures. After only thirty years without serious incident between both human and covenant forces and a minor debacle with both the sith sovereignty and the mandalorian crusaders with no small part of Colours Company at the winning battles; a cruise liner traveling to neighboring system leaves slipspace abruptly due to drive core problems only to be caught in a crossfire between both CIS and Republic forces resulting in all hands lost during the barrage. Both sides abruptly retreat after the incident not knowing they started a war with four dangerous forces.


End file.
